A Deathbed for a Throne

A bedridden terminally ill old man is hardly the picture of strength but Joash knelt at Elisha’s deathbed declaring him, in exclaimed despair, to be the strength of Israel (2 Kings 13). Chariots and horsemen were the most powerful weapons of the time. This is the clearest depiction of true authority: a commander in chief kneeling in despair at a deathbed. Continue reading A Deathbed for a Throne

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The Boy Who Gave His Mom Aphrodisiacs

The misery of a family at war was his from birth. At the centre of the conflict was a tug-of-war for his father’s heartstrings. Each of the two wives had an ace up her sleeve: one was loved while the other, his mother, was fertile. They had not always been wives but happy sisters long before a fugitive stranger appeared at the village well, smitten by the beauty of the younger. Such were the circumstances of his birth, even his name expressed his mother’s mournful longing for her husband’s love. The war dragged in the help as two housemaids found themselves hurled into the master’s bed, Continue reading The Boy Who Gave His Mom Aphrodisiacs

Kulungani?

“Kuzolunga.” At face value, a declaration pregnant with hope but often just an impotent capitulation, a hopeless cupping of hands around a dying flame. It is the last word heard by a wife just before she becomes a widow, spoken as death beclouds her bedridden mate. It rings in the ears of the tenant facing eviction, taunts the desperation of the unemployed graduate and annoys Continue reading Kulungani?

Did You Lose Mrs White on The Road to Emmaus?

The shortcut to the eyes would have missed the heart. That is why Cleopas and his friend were prevented from recognising Jesus on that journey to Emmaus. Christ, however, showed that the evidence of Scripture is more important than sensory experience, that He is closer to those who see Him in Moses and the Prophets than to those who won’t go look beyond what the eye can see. Believing is seeing. Continue reading Did You Lose Mrs White on The Road to Emmaus?

Reaching for the Door

She had a husband but she was no wife. In a world where a woman had to belong to somebody, be it her father or her husband, she was bound to him but he had no obligation to her. Without betrothal and without a wedding, she found herself tasked with living as a wife without the security that a wife had. She was a Continue reading Reaching for the Door

Cluttered Days, Loud Nights

Still wrapped in the darkness that gave birth to it, the day is in its infancy as I type this. I cannot miss the irony of peeling the layers of my insomnia at the very time that I toss and turn under its sleep defying spell. I hope my peeling has at last revealed its secret and I can forever dispel it, binding it to the past as I move on into a well rested future. I think the reason I lie awake vainly searching for sleep, is fear. I am not afraid of the dark or monsters under my bed, no, the fear that chases sleep from my eyes does its grisly work during the day. Continue reading Cluttered Days, Loud Nights

Eyes That Cannot Cry

A lot of the time, people say, “I’m depressed,” when they really mean, “I’m sad.” Depression isn’t a tearful sobbing widow at her husband’s funeral but a heavy emptiness crushing the life out of daily living. It is not a downcast face, no, it is a laughing face, a laughing face that “hides eyes that cannot cry.” That is why some of the funniest comedians are the most miserable. What does it say about us, that misery makes us mirthful? Continue reading Eyes That Cannot Cry